


Stalwart

by teacup_of_doom



Category: Lord Peter Wimsey - Dorothy L. Sayers
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 21:05:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacup_of_doom/pseuds/teacup_of_doom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Back from their honeymoon, Harriet is making plans to write novels again. </p>
<p>As long as certain people's expectations do not get in the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stalwart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chaletian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaletian/gifts).



Lady Peter Whimsy (nee Harriet Vane, and still getting used to the change) bit heartily into a piece of toast and watched in amusement as her husband of only a few months attempted to sort the large pile of letters, cards from well-wishers, and social invitations that had accumulated in the week and a half since they had returned to London from their honeymoon – that had taken a detour to Europe after the incident at Talboys cottage.

Peter had staunchly refused to touch any mail for at least a week – in order, he said, to slowly acclimatize himself back into the nuances and mildly un-invigorating life of London. In reality, she knew that he’d done so in order to allow her to acclimatize to being quite literally the Lady of the house, and to calm her nerves before social niceties bid them to step outside of their front door once more.

The stiff adherence to being _incommunicado_ had been to poor Bunter’s despair, though he would never have said so. The manservant had been forced to find a suitable storage place for the growing pile of correspondence and answer a slew of highly inquisitive telephone calls as to why the newlyweds had not yet ventured forth, but assuredly they would do so soon. By the fourth day, Bunter had acquired a tired tone of voice, and both Peter and Harriet had taken pity on him and answered the phone themselves.

Peter huffed and dropped the letters he was holding on the table. “By golly, Harriet, we will never need to receive another social invitation again. By the time the next six months are over, we will be old and haggard from food, and drink, and thousands of steps danced in halls across London. I shall never see the inside of my club again. I will nevermore see the inside of New Scotland Yard.”

Harriet laughed. “Oh Peter, stop prattling. You know very well that we will have to refuse half of them. The other half we will have to pick and choose. Your sister-in-law has me down for tea at least three times a week.”

Peter looked torn between amusement and a grimace. “Ah, the Duchess of Denver. Interesting woman, but when she has a bone to pick with you, you’ll know it. Has never approved of women having minds of their own. To her detriment, I might add.”

Harriet bit her lip, too worried, but wanting to smile at the same time. “She wants me to stop writing, you know.” She said worriedly. “I don’t think that she will let me be about it.”

Peter frowned, and lines appeared on his forehead. “I’ll have a talk with her.”

“No!” Harriet said, reaching across to take Peter’s arm. “Don’t you dare. It is my decision, your sister in law must learn to accept it, despite the offense to her sensibilities.” Harriet smiled. “I have no intention of stopping writing.”

Peter put his hand over hers. “And you shouldn’t, dear heart. Where on Earth would I be without my fellow sleuth? Chief Inspector Parker will tire of me eventually. ” The clock in the hallway chimed just then, and Peter practically leapt from his chair. “Dear God, is that the time?” He reached over and kissed Harriet on the cheek. “Poor Freddie will be waiting! I will see you later darling.” He left the room, yelling for Bunter and beginning the long hunt for his outer jacket – which Harriet knew for a fact had not yet left the front hall. Bunter also knew, and would also have Peter in hand.

Harriet smiled fondly, listening to Peter fly about the house in a tizzy. She loved him, as prattling, and as occasionally absent minded as he could be. She had meant what she had said to him, however. She had absolutely no intention of never writing again because they were married. She had always prided herself on being an independent woman of independent means – since her parents had died when she was in her early twenties. Then, she had only had herself to rely on. No relatives, no trust fund. Writing detective stories was her passion, no matter what the duchess believed. It was true that now things were a little different. She had married Peter out of wholehearted love, and that had also meant marrying his money. Certainly, she let him pay for many a thing, but she would never not want to pull her own weight when it came to both their marriage, but also their income.

An hour later, with Peter safely off to see Freddie Arbuthnot, and the breakfast dishes cleared away by Bunter – something she had been accustomed to doing for herself so often that it was still mildly strange to have someone else do it for her – Harriet, though there was still much unpacking of clothing to do, had decided to instead unpack her typewriter.

She had not written since before she had been to her Gaudy at Oxford. What she really needed was a new novel, to celebrate her new start in life. Something as exciting and as thrilling as her new life with Peter promised to be. Bunter seemed to have realized what she had been about, and had quietly produced a pot of her favorite coffee, delicately placing it by her elbow as she set up her paper and her notebook – which she used to jot down potential plots – and reminisced about the plots of her other books.

Many of her novels had heroines, there were not nearly enough heroines in the world of literature, and she was glad to have created one that people enjoyed reading. She would like to continue in that way, for the time being, though, perhaps, the heroine could have a male companion assisting her.

As she stared at the typewriter, however, Harriet found that she could not think of any plot whatsoever. When she had been abroad, there had been so many ideas fluttering through her head – scenes of chases through cobblestoned streets and robberies in alleyways – she had been so inspired. Now however, the thoughts seemed to have left her.

Frustrated and beginning to develop a headache, an hour later, all she had produced were doodles of the gardens of Vienna in a notebook, and a rather good drawing of Peter’s monocle. She was distracted from even those however, by the doorbell ringing. Harriet had to stop herself from leaping up and going to open the door. That was one of Bunter’s duties, after all, and not her responsibility anymore. She also did not want to face any callers to the house just yet – while Peter could move about freely, his status unchanged, as the new Lady Wimsey she would be surrounded by curious people the minute she stepped out the front door – not to mention the media, who still had not gotten their fill of the fact that Lord Peter Wimsey had married a woman who had once been arrested for murder, even if she had been acquitted. She looked up anxiously when Bunter entered the salon – looking more hesitant than he would have been had he sent the visitor away.

“I am sorry to trouble you my Lady.” Bunter said, as calmly as ever. “However, the Dowager Duchess of Denver and the Duchess of Denver have come to see you, and I did not believe it was…polite…to leave them standing at the door.”

Momentarily, dread filled Harriet. Of course her mother in law and sister in law. The Dowager Duchess – the old lady she did not mind in the least, she was a sweet, lovely woman, who had probably come to see how her son and her new daughter in law were settling in. The Duchess however…Harriet had thus far not gotten on well with her, and did not know why she would have come.

Harriet forced a smile onto her face. “Of course, please, show them in. Perhaps we can have some tea?”

Bunter smiled, nodded once, and went to fetch the visitors. Peter’s mother had been an imposing old battle-axe in old London circles for years longer than Harriet had known Peter, but she had also indulged and approved of her son’s hobby in detection, and had been pleased when the hobby had turned into something more fruitful. In reality, she had the most wonderful temperament, which Peter had obviously inherited. The Dowager had also given up hope of Peter ever marrying – never continuing the family line – until the day Peter had spotted Harriet in the witness box at her own trial. Both she and Harriet were grateful for that occurrence, in different ways.

Harriet stood when Bunter ushered the Dowager Duchess and the Duchess in, and bowed her head.

“Good afternoon, what a pleasant surprise to see you both.” She smiled, trying to appear a good host.

The older lady smiled pleasantly as well, and instead of sitting at the sofa immediately, came over to where Harriet had been sitting, took her hands, and kissed Harriet on both cheeks. “My dear, the pleasure is all mine. I must say, I am extremely happy that you are now my daughter in law. I have never seen Peter so happy.”

Harriet smiled genuinely. “I too, your Grace. He makes me very happy as well.”

The older lady squeezed Harriet’s hands. “Good.” She smiled, letting go of Harriet’s hands. “Very good. And enough with this your Grace nonsense. We are family now! Call me Honoria, dear.” The Duchess of Denver sniffed at the informality, but said nothing, she had also stayed by the door. Honoria moved back towards the sofa and sat down, Harriet sitting back on her writing stool as well – the Duchess sitting down as well, gingerly, next to Honoria.

“Did you enjoy your honeymoon?” Honoria asked.

“Very much, you Grace - Honoria.” Harriet smiled. “But I think both Peter and I are happy to be back in good, old, England.”

“I understand,” the Duchess said. “I hope you have no further plans to go reeling off to the Continent!” She joked. “I would like to see much more of you now, I had so hoped that you would agree to marry Peter. I should like to get to know you much better – may I call you Harriet?”

Harriet beamed at the old lady – and ignored the Duchess, who seemed to be examining every inch of the room, nosily. “Oh! Of course! I would be honored.”

“And what are your plans, now that you’ve returned?” The Duchess broke in, casting almost an accusing gaze at Harriet.

Harriet instantly knew why the Duchess had come. “Well, Peter and I had thought to see some of our friends, and then he naturally has business to attend to.” Harriet began. “And I…I thought that I would go see some of my old friends, perhaps visit Oxford again. They sent me a letter, asking if I would do a reading of some of my latest novel.”

Honoria smiled and clapped her hands delightedly. “Oh! That would be wonderful. Should you send me an invitation, I will certainly attend, if they allow non-Oxford people to attend.”

“I’m sure that they will make an exception for you.” Harriet said, charmed. “If not for a Dowager Duchess, then certainly for my mother-in-law!”

The two of them giggled. The Duchess did not. She was staring at Harriet as if she had grown two heads. “You aren’t telling me that, now you are married to Peter, you will continue as an authoress?” Honoria put her hand on the younger woman’s elbow, trying to restrain the woman’s criticisms, but it did not work. “You should be thinking of your position in society – as Peter’s wife, you should be devoting yourself to charitable works, as I have. You no longer need to support yourself. You should be supporting Peter. And there is the matter of having children, Peter’s heirs.”

“Helen.” Honoria said sharply, and the Duchess of Denver shut her trap, though her lips thinned, clearly restraining herself from continuing.

Harriet drew herself up on her stool, her back straight as a rod, trying not to glare at the other woman. “As Peter’s wife,” she began. “I have full support from him in my writing endeavors. He supports that it is my right to write should I choose to. I have never had any intention of stopping. No, I do not have to support myself any longer through my own means. However, it is difficult to break the habits of a lifetime, and I enjoy my work.” Harriet smiled, surprising herself. “Had I never written a story, I would never have met Peter. I now cannot imagine us without that connection, with that yearn for knowledge and the truth. No, your Grace, I do not plan to give up writing detective stories.

Charitable works are only charitable if you are not forced into them. I will not be forced into a “traditional” marriage, though you support them, neither Peter nor I wish to limit me in such a way. I support Peter every day, in every way I can. He expects, and wants nothing less, and he does not want me to be unhappy.”

From the looks on their faces, there was glowing approval and the hint of a smile from Honoria, and a glare that would have had the ability to kill, had the laws of the universe been different, from the Duchess.

“When Peter and I have children,” Harriet finished. “It will be at a time that we both agree on.” Harriet indicated behind her, towards the typewriter. “As it so happens, I am shortly to begin the first in a series of novels. I hope to get the first one off to the publisher by the end of the year.” It was a complete lie, but the reaction from the Duchess was wonderful to behold.

The Duchess looked fit to burst, her cheeks reddening. She opened her mouth to respond, but was instead pulled roughly to her feet by Honoria.

“Then I shall look forward to reading it my dear.” Honoria said. “I shall visit again, and perhaps we can speak further then. Once again, I would like to welcome you to the family, and you  can come visit our home at any time!” The old lady said, and then pushed her older daughter in law out of the room.

When they were gone, Harriet burst into giggles, just about the time a surprised Bunter came in with the laden tea tray. “Have they already left, my Lady?”

“They have! Oh, Bunter, I will tell you what happened later, when Peter comes back. I don’t want to tell it more than once!”

Bunter nodded, but there was a smile on his lips as he carried the tea tray away again.

Harriet turned back to the typewriter with a smirk playing on her lips. Perhaps she did have a plot idea after all – featuring a Duchess who, unfortunately, is thrust into danger to her person after airing her unfavorable views.

 

 

 


End file.
